Wanted Woman

Needless to say, it made great headlines in the Cascade Courier, the weekly local paper run by Mitch’s fiancée Charity Jenkins. In fact, Charity seemed to be doing everything she could to keep the story page one.

And, as always, the news kept the gossips going at Betty’s Café.

Jesse knew a lot of people in town resented Wade because of his money and his overbearing attitude and were hoping when the trial rolled around that Wade got the book thrown at him. Jesse just hoped Wade never went gunning for Mitch again. He would definitely take it personally next time.

Meanwhile, since Mitch was off his feet, he’d asked Jesse to stand in as acting deputy until he was completely recovered. Jesse had helped him out before since his return to Timber Falls. Because the town was in a remote part of Oregon, the sheriff had the authority to deputize whatever help he needed.

Jesse suspected Mitch thought putting him in a uniform would help straighten him up. He smiled at the thought because the job was a mixed blessing. He had only started this morning and already hated it. Still, he figured he was doing Mitch a favor and he could use the money, but he’d never been wild about cops since his wild youth and now he was one. The only one in Timber Falls.

The good news was that Timber Falls seldom had any real crime. Although this rainy season had had more than its share. But Jesse was hoping that with Wade Dennison locked up in jail and no more bigfoot sightings, things would quiet down.

“You look like you’re doing all right,” he said to his brother as Charity came into the room with a tray of coffee, freshly squeezed orange juice, scrambled eggs, bacon and toast. She put it down on Mitch’s lap.

Jesse raised a brow. “Damn, the woman can even cook?”

“Very funny,” Charity quipped. “It’s genetic. All women are born to cook and clean. Men are born to be asses.”

Jesse faked a hurt expression.

“Except for Mitch,” she added with a smile as she touched his shoulder. Charity had been crazy about Jesse’s younger brother since she was a kid and he couldn’t be more excited that the two of them were finally getting married. Mitch, while lying in a pool of his own blood, finally got smart and proposed to her after she’d helped save his life. The man was slow, but not stupid.

“I need to talk to my little brother for a moment,” Jesse said. Mitch was two years younger, but several inches taller than Jesse. “Sheriff’s department business.”

Mitch groaned. “That’s like waving a red flag in front of a bull to talk sheriff’s department business in front of Charity, ace reporter.”

“It’s nothing you’d find interesting for the newspaper,” Jesse assured Charity as he sat down next to Mitch and stole a piece of his bacon. Charity stuck around just in case. She was the owner, editor and reporter of the Cascade Courier and she was a bloodhound when it came to a good story.

“You know those forms you said I have to file every week?” Jesse said chewing the bacon. “Where again do you keep them?”

Charity picked up her purse and headed for the front door. “Jesse, if you’re going to be here for a few minutes, I need to run by the paper.”

“I can be left alone, you know,” Mitch called to her. “I’m not a complete invalid.”

Charity paid him no mind.

“I’ll stay here until you come back,” Jesse proposed so she would finally leave.

“Forms?” Mitch said after she’d gone.

Jesse shrugged. “Couldn’t think of anything else off the top of my head. The real reason I wanted to talk to you is that I witnessed an accident last night. Desiree Dennison ran a biker off the road.”

Mitch swore. “Anyone hurt?”

Jesse shook his head. “It was a hit-and-run though. She didn’t even stop to see if the biker was okay.”

“You’re sure it was Desiree?”

“Saw the car with my own eyes. She had the top down. No one has a head of hair like her.” Desiree took great pride in that wild mane of hers.

He was trying to put his finger on just what color it was when he was reminded of the biker’s hair. It was long and fell in soft curls down her back and was a dark mahogany color that only nature could create. Desiree’s was darker than he remembered and he realized she must have put something on it.

“Any other witnesses?” Mitch asked.

“Not at 3:00 a.m.”

“What about the biker?”

“Wasn’t interested in pressing charges. You know bikers.”

Mitch grunted. He knew Jesse and that was enough.

“There’s going to be damage to the car. The biker hit the passenger door side. I’d say pretty extensive damage and I took a sample of the paint from the bike.”

Mitch was nodding. “You have to write Desiree up. The judge is going to take her license, has to after all her speeding tickets.”

Jesse nodded. “I just wanted to tell you before I go up there. I’m sure there will be repercussions.”

Mitch snorted. “With a Dennison?”

“I heard Wade might make bail.”

“No way. Daisy’s fighting it. So am I. He’s too much of a risk.”

“I hope the judge sees it that way,” Jesse said as he took a piece of Mitch’s toast. He’d never had much faith in the system. And Charity had been writing some pretty inflammatory news articles about Wade and the rest of the Dennisons, dragging up a lot of old dirt.

If Wade got out, who knew what he would do. He’d threatened to kill Charity at least once that Jesse knew of.

“Have you considered cutting your hair?” Mitch asked eyeing him as Jesse wiped his bacon-greasy hands on his brother’s napkin.

“Nope.” That was the good part about being deputized in this part of Oregon. A lot of the rules in the big city just didn’t apply. How else could someone like Jesse become an officer of the law?

He heard Charity’s VW pull up. “Your woman’s back. Better eat your breakfast.”

“What’s left of it,” Mitch grumbled. “Be careful up there at the Dennisons’. I swear they’re all crazy.”

Jesse wouldn’t argue that.

MAGGIE STARED at the newspaper headline. After Twenty-Seven Years In Hiding Following Daughter’s Kidnapping, Daisy Dennison Ready For New Life.

“Is that all?” the grocery clerk asked.

Maggie dragged her gaze away from the newspaper to look at the older woman behind the counter. Twenty-seven years. Kidnapping. “What?”

“Is there anything else?”

“I’ll take a few papers,” Maggie said, feeling light-headed and nauseous as she grabbed the two larger West Coast papers and one of the tiny Cascade Courier. She shoved them into the grocery bag with her other purchases, her hands shaking.

The clerk eyed her for a moment, then rang up the newspapers. Maggie gave her a twenty and accepted the change the woman insisted on counting out into her trembling palm. Stuffing the change into the bag with the groceries, Maggie left, trying not to run.